


Twelve Views of Port Paravel

by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Age of Winter (Narnia), Angst and Tragedy, Boats and Ships, Calormen, Gen, Merchants and Trading, Slavery, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Culmer
Summary: Khoshet was in Tash's nest as the ship drew near the coast, and so he was the first to see not the shore but a strange black cloud above it.Or, the fall of Port Paravel, as seen by the crew of a Calormene merchant ship and the trading staff in the port.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38
Collections: Narnia Fic Exchange 2020





	Twelve Views of Port Paravel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [songsmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsmith/gifts).



> I don't know if this is exactly what you wanted (with regard to Narnia's woes being basically a footnote for the Calormene Empire), but it's the story that wanted to happen. I hope you enjoy it!

**1\. The Lookout**

Khoshet was in Tash's nest as the ship drew near the coast, and so he was the first to see not the shore but a strange black cloud above it. He snatched the spyglass from its case and peered westward, trying to make out details.

Not smoke, gods be thanked, but something stranger: a flock of birds, so vast and thick as to nearly blot out the sun. It was like the great migratory flocks that carpeted the wetlands near his home, but something felt off, a minnow slipping through his fingers. Finally he caught it: the great flocks were all of a type, terns with terns, warblers with warblers, and so on. These birds were all different sizes and shapes, predator and prey circling unnaturally together.

It could only be a sign of dissent among the demons, though what that meant for the ship and their cargo, he couldn't say.

Best to let the captain decide.

\-----

**2\. The Captain**

Ullilah swore under her breath at the lookout's call, and fixed her own spyglass to her eye in an attempt to confirm his report. A great flock of birds, yes. Demons? Who could say. Even so, she was under contract and turning back with no attempt to land and investigate the situation would cost her dearly. Besides, sometimes trouble made people more eager to buy, not less. Who could say she might not come out of this with a profit for herself as well as for the Merchant House of Abraykash? She might even be able to pay off her last round of debts and own the _Breath of Autumn_ free and clear once more.

And all other considerations aside, they needed fresh water. Sokda had blessed their passage with wind, but not with rain, and no matter how fine the tea in her hold might be, to brew with salt was to drink naught but tears.

"We go in, but light as a cat's foot on cinders," she told her crew. "And be ready to cast off and flee like the beat of a hummingbird's wings."

She pressed the spyglass back to her eye and whispered a brief prayer to Achadith, that this trouble might break in their favor.

\-----

**3\. The Handmaid of Zardeenah**

As with all things on the water, there was a ritual for safe entry to a harbor: a cup of fresh water, a pinch of earth, a prayer, a seated hand-dance, a dampened veil. Aghdashroo had memorized it carefully in the little shrine on the sea-cliff above her village, that served Sokda and Zardeenah both. This was only her fourth time performing it in truth, but the devotions were second nature and her arms faltered only once as an unexpectedly large wave rolled under the ship.

There were no rituals to protect against a disaster that troubled even the demons of the North -- or rather, none taught to a girl who only intended to serve Zardeenah as a handmaid on a handful of voyages before finding a husband and settling into motherhood. All she could do was sing her prayers with extra faith in her heart and trust the gods to hear.

"Lady of the stars of night, guide us through the shadows. Lord of waters and the wild, guide us through the storm," she murmured.

As the _Breath of Autumn_ glided to a graceful halt like a swan upon a ruffled lake, Aghdashroo looked across the gap from ship to pier, marked the dozens and hundreds of humans and demons crowding the shore and crying out for passage, and wondered what power had descended upon Narnia like the thunderbolt of Tash -- and whether it would strike her ship, too, however they chose to respond.

\-----

**4\. The Guard**

Soolchak shifted his hands on his spear as the crowd pressed forward. Behind him, the ship (clearly flying the house flag of Abraykash, though the captain's personal ensign wasn't one he'd seen before) creaked closer to the pier with each slow turn and knot of the ropes around the mooring posts. Finally it was near enough to lay a plank bridge from deck to dock and let the factor and his scribe on board.

"Please!" a young woman called, one child pressed against her legs and another held to her shoulder. "Please, give us passage! In the name of your gods, passage! They say the Witch will kill every human in Narnia and her army presses further east each day. If not for me, then for my children -- have pity! Surely no god delights in the death of innocents!"

She pried the older child off her leg and shoved the girl forward.

Were there any true innocents in a land filled east to west and sea to sky with demons? Perhaps not. And yet, despite her pale skin, unpleasantly reminiscent of sour milk, the girl looked not unlike Soolchak's own youngest sister. Surely a child so young could be taught to live justly and worship the true gods instead of the wicked Lion?

He glanced over his shoulder toward the ship, riding low in the water with its cargo and crew.

Even if they tossed all the tea in the harbor and left the waiting goods to gather dust in the warehouse, even if they packed the ship so full there was scarcely room to breathe, they couldn't carry more than a fraction of the crowd surging desperately toward the sea.

"No passage," he said, and lowered his spear at his sergeant's signal.

\-----

**5\. The Scribe**

Gayarshleen set her abacus on the captain's table and stood beside it, back to the wall, wax tablet and stylus held ready to record calculations. She suspected there would be little such work today, but whatever veneer of normality she could provide to Chenekhaz was a tiny weight on the scale tipping their chances toward survival rather than calamity. Her master's thoughts tended to spiral when he felt caged or pressed, and she'd prefer him to think clearly and navigate a clear path through these troubles.

It was a pity Narnia seemed likely to fall to this mysterious western sorceress. Gayarshleen had no great desire to live among demons, and there was something to be said for knowing one's bed and meals were somebody else's problem to procure, but she knew her own worth: a scribe trained in double-ledger bookkeeping could find work in any land. She had nearly decided to claim refuge from her master and, after a year and a day, make her way to one of the eastern isles or perhaps to Vinyedvyeri in the far northwest.

Futile dreams, now. By all reports the sorceress was bent on driving every person with a drop of human blood from the land, leaving herself nothing but demons to rule.

Perhaps she thought demons would be easier to bind, given their known weaknesses to magic and to the true speech of the gods. Or perhaps she was a demon herself. Gayarshleen had dwelt long enough in the North to know that some demons could look very nearly human, though their true nature always showed in subtle signs.

But that was idle speculation. What mattered now was keeping her master calm and rational so he could convince the captain and her crew -- and Master Abraykash's nephew -- that the only course of action was to abandon the tea, empty and close the warehouse, and leave Narnia to its own wicked devices.

Perhaps they could take a handful of humans south to civilized lands, if they had enough coin to make the trouble worth the cost.

Or perhaps not. It was of little importance either way.

\-----

**6\. The Factor**

The captain would be easy to convince, Chenekhaz though as he rubbed his hands nervously together. He had House Abraykash's favor and she was a mere hireling. That equation balanced neatly in his favor.

The trouble would be convincing Abraykash's reckless nephew, sent on this voyage to learn the intricacies of his uncle's empire of coin and credit, and to extricate him from some awkward questions back at home.

"A sorceress bent on driving all but demons from the land," the captain said flatly. "How could such a power arise without word coming to Calormen? Surely a man of your years and wisdom knows well the value of an ear turned to the wind and a palm pressed to the ground, to track the approach of a stampede long before the dust rises into view."

"Very easily, if that power rises in the west among the demons who will not suffer any soul bearing so much as a drop of human blood to walk among them," Chenekhaz said. "Even these softer, eastern demons avoid their western cousins, and were taken by surprise as much as I. But the mystery of her origins is for wiser minds than ours to unveil. What we must do now is load everything in the warehouse onto your ship, removing as much of the tea as necessary to create space."

"The loss--!"

"--cannot be avoided, but can be lessened. Your tea won't fetch half as much anywhere else, whereas northern goods will soon become more valuable than ever. It is a simple sum, in the end, and our time is short."

"The humans now thronging the port might also pay great sums for passage south," his scribe murmured from her corner.

"Just so," Chenekhaz agreed, though he cast the slave a quelling glance. "All the more reason to dispose of the tea. What say you, O my Captain? And what say you, O nephew of my master?"

\-----

**7\. The Merchant's Nephew**

Ilzamir gnawed the inside of his lip and wished the factor hadn't asked for his opinion. He was meant to be learning the patterns of a dull and long-established trade route, under the steady hand of a captain who had sailed alongside his parents in their youth, when she and his mother were handmaids together and his father learned trading under his grandfather's stern attention.

He wasn't ready to face riots and demon magic. He couldn't weigh trade calculations in his head.

None of this would be his problem if he'd run away to live as a fisher. Perhaps he should try again when they made it home. _If_ they made it home.

"O servant of my uncle, I say you are the scout on the ridge while we are the host in the valley. You have seen the face of the enemy, and I have no reason to doubt your words."

Beside him, Captain Ullilah grimaced. "To hear is to obey," she said, and then added, "but you, boy, will sign a contract that the choice to dump the tea was made with your approval. If we hang, we shall all three hang together until Abraykash cuts our vulture-stripped corpses down from the gibbet and feeds our bones to the sea."

"Uncle would never--!"

Ilzamir fell silent at a scathing glare from the captain.

"Get to work, boy," she said, and dipped her head to the factor before she strode onto the deck.

\-----

**8\. The Quartermaster**

"How much time?" Ofaneen asked.

The captain glanced at the factor, who glanced at his scribe. The slave looked at the sun in the sky, the crowd on the shore, and a chart she pulled from the stiff-sided case slung over her shoulder. "Reports suggest the sorceress will reach the shore tomorrow night," she said after a long moment. "We should leave with the morning tide."

Ofaneen made Achadith's sign as a ward against demons and mischance, then Azaroth's for good measure. "Night work is always a risk. And we'll have to unload more or less as usual, though we can shove the tea into the warehouse without bothering to stack it well."

"Can we afford the time?" the captain asked.

"If we acknowledge the danger, show any sign of a change in routine, the crowd will move from fear to riot," Ofaneen said flatly. "We cannot afford for them to rush the ship, or push us into the sea when the madness takes hold and they forget everything but fear."

The captain sighed. "Do it. Chenekhaz, ready your keys and your carts. We move until all the cargo is stowed, and then bring a few passengers aboard under cover of darkness, when the crowd will be least able to notice their numbers thin."

"To hear is to obey," Ofaneen said, and strode off to organize the crew.

\-----

**9\. The North-born Child**

"Are we really leaving for Calormen?" Adidi asked his father as he held the mules steady at the front of the cart.

"Yes," Father said, shoving another bundle of furs into the high, boxy cart and pressing down to make sure it wouldn't spill out over the walls. "Enough, this one's full!" he called, turning to face the rest of the men (and a few women) loading all the mysterious and enticing contents of the warehouse onto a series of rented carts. He swung himself up onto the driving board beside Adidi and took the reins into his own hands.

"You'll stay on the ship with this load," Father said as the mules and the wooden wheels clattered over the cobbled streets of Port Paravel, the familiar streets made strange by the lack of people and the odd midafternoon twilight of a thousand circling wings.

"But--!"

"Adidi."

"To hear is to obey," Adidi said sulkily. "When will Mother join us?"

Father's face moved oddly for a moment and his hands clenched on the reins until one mule brayed in protest.

"Your mother is not coming with us," he said. "She and your aunt and grandparents have decided to rent a cart and drive over the pass to Archenland. Gods willing, I will find a job in Armouth and we will be reunited, but the book of the future is closed to us on earth."

"Why couldn't we go with them?" Adidi asked.

"Because I owe Merchant Chenekhaz a great debt, and it would not be right to abandon him in a time of need," Father said.

"But why is it right for Mother to abandon us? For _all_ our family to abandon us?"

"Sometimes," Father said, "a person may have more than one duty, and cannot be true to both at once. Your mother and her family are Narnian, of Narnian blood and bone, and they might not find as rich a welcome in Calormen as I have found here. Meanwhile, _you_ , O my son, are as much of the South as of the North, and might not find as rich a welcome in Archenland as any child deserves. So you and I shall sail south to Calormen while your mother's family drive into the mountains, and we shall pray to all the gods that the future will be kind."

"Why wouldn't Archenland welcome--" Adidi started to say, but the cart clattered onto the pier, past the guards holding back the crowd with their spears, and his attention was caught by the graceful ship and the people -- only humans, no Beasts or Birds or Beings -- swarming over the deck and ropes like ants.

"Onto the ship, Adidi," Father said.

Adidi scrambled aboard.

\-----

**10\. The Cook**

"All the cargo's aboard and stowed. We're taking on passengers now," Ofaneen told Igalakh, staying respectfully in the doorway rather than intruding into the galley. "Some are children. Make something sweet to keep them quiet."

"With what sugar?"

Ofaneen shrugged. "Ice wine from your secret stash? Boil some beets? I hear there's sugar in beets."

Igalakh hurled a ladle toward the door, but Ofaneen had already ducked around the corner.

"Boil some beets," Igalakh muttered to himself. "Boil some beets. What barbarian would boil a beet? You roast them with oil and salt! Any fool knows that."

Igalakh ran a despairing eye over his stores and wondered how it had come to this.

The _Breath of Autumn_ was meant to carry a crew of thirty. Add the guards and staff of the warehouse, and that nearly doubled. Add passengers on top, and they might end up with ninety souls aboard. Granted, they could likely stop in Tashbaan and let the passengers make their own way from there, but how was he meant to feed ninety souls for two days and a half with unreplenished stores?

Somewhere around a corner, a baby wailed briefly before someone hushed it into quiet, hiccupping sobs.

Right, Igalakh thought. Roast beets, coming up.

\-----

**11\. The Storyteller**

"Have you heard? I was talking to one of the northerners and he said the sorceress is a demon herself, ten feet tall and skin as white as salt. Blood wells up from the ground where she steps, and she can turn strong men to stone!"

"Oh?"

Ulladin grinned and warmed to his topic. "Yes, they say she lived in a tower in the uttermost west, where the sun dies each day. They say she harvested the blood of the sun and brewed it in a cauldron for a hundred years, and one drop of that potion will turn a man's blood to fire until he burns like a torch from the inside out."

"Agh, that's horrible. What else?"

"They say she's the sworn enemy of the Lion (may Tash smite him down), which you would think should make her our friend, but she bears equal enmity toward humans and trusts only the demons in the shape of beasts. Perhaps she's a Greater Demon herself, like the accursed Lion, and this is merely one battle in an endless war between them."

"Perhaps so. She came from the west, they say."

"They do say," Ulladin agreed.

"And the accursed Lion is said to dwell in the east, is that not so?"

"So they say. Ah! No wonder they fight. One is the demon of the rising sun and the other the demon of the oncoming night, and Narnia the land caught between their appetites. How lucky for us that we live in the heart of the world, away from such unpleasantness."

"How goes the watch?" the first mate called.

"All's quiet!" Ulladin called back.

He waited a minute, listened to the soft shush and slap of waves against the hull and the despairing groans of the crowd on the shore. Then he leaned forward, took another swig of grog, and said, "They say Abraykash may have the factor and the captain whipped when we return home."

"Oh? Tell me more!"

\-----

**12\. The Lookout**

Khoshet was off duty as the _Breath of Autumn_ cast off and set sail on the morning tide. Good sense said he should be below decks, catching a nap in his hammock, but he couldn't bear the thought of missing what might happen as they left Port Paravel forever.

The eerie cloud of birds still circled overhead, casting the morning sun into twilight, and in the distance he thought for a moment he saw a great flash of light and a plume of dust -- but perhaps it was only a reflection from a polished roof, like the temples in the heart of Tashbaan, which he had seen for the first time on this voyage north.

As the ship pulled free of the pier, the crowd surged and cried, and a young man and woman leapt across the widening gap to clutch at the rail with desperate hands.

The woman scrabbled and caught Khoshet's wrist before he could step back. "Mercy!" she cried. "Have mercy in the name of the Lion -- or in the names of your gods, whatever they are! Mercy, mercy, mercy!"

Khoshet looked frantically around for someone to tell him what to do.

Captain Ullilah stepped forward with a scowl upon her face. "You would claim passage. What do you offer in payment?"

On the shore, another flash of light leapt skyward, chased by a plume of smoke and an unnatural clap of thunder.

"I offer myself!" the woman said.

"I offer myself!" the man echoed. "Only save us from the Witch!"

The captain nodded. "Add two slaves to the manifest," she told the factor's scribe. "Boy, pull that one over the rail before she does herself harm."

Behind them, a third flash of light passed over the heaving, screaming crowd and left silent gray stone in its wake. The pier, overloaded, began to crack and sink beneath the waves.

"To hear is to obey," Khoshet said, and pulled the new slave aboard.


End file.
